Keep Looking Up—And Out

A week ago today, my husband and I packed up the car and took a two-day road trip back to my home state of Texas to see the solar eclipse.
 
We weren't sure what to expect as the weather forecast was not very promising, but as they say in Texas (and virtually every other state I've lived in), "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute."
 
We had commemorative Eclipse 2024 t-shirts designed by a childhood friend of mine, our official viewing glasses, our Rand McNally atlas (yes, the printed kind), and plenty of snacks to keep us sated.
 
On Monday, we arrived at our parking spot in the small town of Boerne TX early—as instructed to—by the hundreds of road signs placed throughout central Texas for the big event. We were by no means the first to get there, and what essentially was a giant tailgate party was well underway. Families picnicking, playing catch and cornhole, flying kites—you get the picture.
 
Although the clouds continued to roll through with gusto, the atmosphere was festive and hopeful.
 
At one point the skies cleared, the sun came out, and this ad hoc community we'd become a part of breathed a collective sigh of relief. Maybe we would get the once-in-a-lifetime view of totality we'd been promised.
 
Sadly, that was not to be, and although we did get a few peeks of the beginning of the eclipse through our glasses, we ended up experiencing totality through thickly clouded skies.
 
That said, at precisely 1:32 p.m. CDT, the temperature dropped, the sky went dark, the streetlights came on, and it was nighttime in the middle of the day.
 
As it turned out, we didn’t have to see a ring around the moon to enjoy the experience we were promised. We could FEEL it.
 
It was emotional (yes, tears came to my eyes), breathtaking, and in some ways, quite peaceful—even in a crowd of hundreds and hundreds of people.
 
As I reflected on it throughout our two-day drive home, it occurred to me that this experience was somewhat reminiscent of what aging into our third stage of life could be, if we approached it with the right mindset—and viewed it through the right lens:
 
An adventure. Festive. Hopeful. Promising. Surprising. Filled with both sunshine and clouds. Communal. Emotional. Peaceful. Exciting.
 
Perhaps the best-selling author Anne Lamott captured my take on it best, “If you’re getting older and you’re worried, just buckle up—you’re gonna LOVE it.”
 
Seven days and hundreds and hundreds of miles later, I DID.